


Bit by Bit

by bumblebee_rose



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, MSR, takes place after orison, tiny bit of angst in the beginning that turns to pure fluff because i love writing them like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 22:10:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12308850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebee_rose/pseuds/bumblebee_rose
Summary: They re-arrange her spices in the cabinet and somehow the work seems less tedious. Cinnamon and nutmeg create the scent of warmth and they put on a record while they clean. Soon enough the spice cabinet is forgotten and they push her furniture to the side so that they can dance in the center of her living room. To him she is made up of sparks and vibrant messages, finding solace in worlds of colour that he can’t touch. Each individual part of her is a painting that together creates a whole museum of discovery, a kaleidoscope of a person.  She is breathless and tired and he thinks she feels good to be happy again.





	Bit by Bit

**Author's Note:**

> all the characters and events belong to Chris Carter the x files and fox. none of them belong to me or are original to me in any way Im just here to write about them :)

He finds her tucked away in tight corners. Knees drawn up to her chest, and lips parted, looking for shapes in the tiles of the floor. The stale light of the hospital is blinding, and he blinks until the spots of dark recede from behind his eyelids. He hates seeing her like this. He once believed she was invincible to any force that may try to touch her, but years can still wear a person down. Her fingernails are cracked and broken in parallel to the mirror on her apartment floor. She reaches for his hand from her curled up position on the bed. Her palms have been scrubbed since she entered the hospital but he can still feel the iron on her skin. Red, red, red, red. He sees flickers of it in the reflection of her eyes.

He wishes he could fill the little tears that have formed on her heart, stitch all the pieces of her back together, but she broke commandment number #6 and doesn’t think she deserves him, or her own god anymore. She gets on her knees and prays every night before the stars come out to remind her of where his soul has gone. What would her mother say? what would her priest say? when they spoke of Cain in the bible she never thought his punishment of living forever was harsh, but she now realizes the real punishment is realizing what you have done, that you have taken a life. She prays to St. Maria and whoever else will listen to her need for faith.

 

Skinner walks in 2 hours after they start to miss the sound of the song from her church.

He finds them in silence holding each others hands like lifelines that tether their souls to the ground. She is sleeping but he can see from the glassy look in his eyes that her partner has forgotten how to sleep, how to stop watching out for her. He walks until he is standing directly behind the two of them. 

“Mulder, how is she”

“I don’t know sir”

“you don’t know?” he questions, sliding his hands into his coat pockets

“she won’t say anything, hasn’t said anything” Mulders voice catches and scrapes on certain words due to misuse. He feels sorry for them both, they’ve always been stuck in some sort of tragedy. But cars pass by just the same and dripping water still races down too big windows that don’t let in enough light to brighten her face.

 

He brings her home after three days in the hospital, where time seems to pass slowly, like how they used to when she was younger and a 45-minute class seemed like hours. seconds feel like minutes and her eyelids turn heavy. Her mother came to her apartment the day before to water plants and beg for her forgiveness. How strange is it that only a few steps away from where she shot a man, nature thrives. The earth turns counter-clockwise as she traces circles on the floor with the toe of her shoe, nothing is in her control anymore. He pulls her coat of her shoulders for her but now she’s cold and there is no warmth in here anymore. She has come to learn that nothing is normal anymore, she has lost herself in a world where shadows lurk behind doors, and she can’t see an end.

He helps her clean up. Together they pick up broken pieces of mirror and she catches her reflection in shards of glass, Tired eyes, pale skin, and tangled hair. She reminds herself of a ghost. He scrapes the side of his hand on a piece and blood immediately flows from the wound. It gets on the carpet, but she doesn’t care anymore, much more blood has been shed in much larger quantities. She wraps his hand with doctor’s precision and makes him promise that he will check for infection if it starts to hurt more than it should. Always a doctor, but aren’t doctors supposed to save people?

 

“please stay with me” she asks him

 

He stays by her side. She is stronger than him, always has been and always will be. In relation to the sky she is infinite in his universe, an endless being. She has never needed his protection, and she still doesn’t, but just this once she has allowed him to help her. She exists in the moonlight, floating through doorways and hallways but never seeming to actually live in any place. She tells him she is fine, but days he spent in hospitals when a spot just to the left of her eyebrow was slowing draining her life away has taught him different. I’m fine is always up for debate. I’m fine means words can’t say how I’m feeling anymore, but I am so beyond repair that I can’t say anything at all.

He stays by her side and she has never been more grateful. Calloused hands rub her shoulders and make her tea in olive green mugs. They pull her back into the world, and remind her of the good that she still has, that she can still see. He goes with her to church that day, even though she knows he doesn’t believe, or belong to her religion, but he still goes. Mass ends and he returns her home to the safety of closed doors and locks, but her home doesn’t feel as safe as it once did so he stays awake with her through the night.

 

“thank you” she whispers into his chest as the moon looks down at them

“for what” he replies smoothing her hair down the side of her head

She doesn’t say anything back but rather kisses the side of his jaw and rests her head on his shoulder.

 

He helps her prop her bookshelf back up, and place kick-knacks back on high shelves. Most of her books are bent and scraped, but some still are pristine, unaffected by events occurring so near. Bit by bit he helps her put herself back together. Small smiles as he stands frames back on tops of dressers, and elbow nudges when he finds things she’s stolen from his drawers. Bit by bit she rebuilds herself stronger, makes a new person within herself that isn’t afraid. Too many of her favourite things are cracked and broken. The glass angel her mother gave her on the day she was confirmed, and the small porcelain heart-shaped dish she would put her earrings in. Her satin pajamas are stained with blood, and her curtains no longer serve the purpose of blocking eyes, but rather block in the light she so desperately needs.

Slowly they help each other. She has begun to forgive herself, and he has started to find a way out. They hold each other, blocking out cigarette smoke, and burning ashes, until she can breathe in clean air again. She teaches herself new things. How to sew up holes in throw pillows and replace knobs on dresser drawers. As her apartment continues to heal so does she. She cuts flowers to put in tall vases but refuses to light candles anywhere in the bathroom. She starts painting her nails red again, and walking with her head up. For a while she stayed in his apartment in Alexandria but now she isn’t afraid to sleep in her own home anymore. She has deduced that Donnie Pfaster was an evil man, and she has no time to dwell on the doing of evil people.

 

They re-arrange her spices in the cabinet and somehow the work seems less tedious. Cinnamon and nutmeg create the scent of warmth and they put on a record while they clean. Soon enough the spice cabinet is forgotten and they push her furniture to the side so that they can dance in the center of her living room. To him she is made up of sparks and vibrant messages, finding solace in worlds of colour that he can’t touch. Each individual part of her is a painting that together creates a whole museum of discovery, a kaleidoscope of a person. She is breathless and tired and he thinks she feels good to be happy again. Her face lights up when he spins her and they fall laughing onto her carpet where they talk of which things they would take to deserted islands.  
“Well I would bring a plane, it’s the obvious choice” she says while tracing figure eights on his arm

“Scully that is the most boring choice you could make, this game is supposed to be fun” he laughs while turning on his side to look at her. “its supposed to be a test of character, the things you couldn’t live without”

“well what would you bring then?” she asks him cheeks reddening

“hmmmmm well obviously all my x-files bec-“

“Mulder if you’re on a deserted island you can’t solve any x-files”

“its for entertainment” he shoots back at her as she rolls her eyes

“whatever. What are your other two?”

“a lifetime supply of sunflower seeds” he says to her much-expected mocking “and I don’t know what else to be honest” he teases her

She makes a shocked face and draws shapes on the palm of his hand “are you saying that you wouldn’t bring me on your island getaway?”

“I mean I guess you can come just in case I get stuck in a tree or maybe a hole”

“that was one time” she says laughing

“one time is too many times”

“but on a more serious note” she starts “are you saying that the things you couldn’t live without are a bunch of monster stories, salty snacks, and me?” 

“I guess so” he says

“well” she replies “at least you got one of them right”

 

He knows anything and everything about the planet Neptune. The windy planet he tells her. its freezing there and takes more than 100 years to orbit the sun. He names all its moons by tapping the tips of her fingers Triton, Nereid, Proteus, Naiad, Thalassa, Despina, Galatea, and Larissa. It’s the year 2000 and so far, they’ve found 8 moons but he still thinks there’s more out there. 8 natural satellites are rotating around a spinning gaseous form and everyone seems to think its normal. 

They buy white Christmas lights in march and drape them on shelves and across her bedpost. He says they remind him of stars and she likes them because she thinks he secretly lives among the stars, and now she is never too far away from him. They watch old movies on her VCR, and he somehow knows all the words. They’re all terrible with jokes that don’t make sense anymore but she thinks that’s what makes them so funny. His laugh is her favourite sound that she can never seem to get enough of.

 

They move to the smashed lamp in her bedroom. He doesn’t have enough glue to put back all the pieces so they go shopping for a new one. Halfway through she gets tired so she sits in the cart and has him push her down the aisles. She is insistent on finding a lamp that is nearly identical to the one she had so they comb through the store for the closest match they can find.

“this one is pretty good if you ask me scully” he shouts from around the corner

“bring it over then”

He rounds the corner with the most hideous lamp she has ever seen. Its covered in lace, frills and beads, and looks as if its been taken from the 1920s

“mulder this looks like that kind of lamp skinner would keep in his bedroom” she says with a look of disgust

“I thought the same thing, I’m actually pretty sure I’ve seen it in his office”

“let’s buy it” she says all the sudden deciding that it’s the best-looking lamp she ever seen

“I knew you had a thing for skinner” he says placing it in the cart beside her

She just shrugs and holds it up “it really is disgusting, but I really feel like I need it”

“if you like it then I guess its good”

“I love it and I’m buying it right at this second”

 

They drive at night to pass time. Streetlights blur into shapes made up of red green yellow, and tall buildings pass by in streaks of grey. When she was younger she used to think that broccoli looked like trees and she would pretend she was taller than cities. The air is cool on the palm of her hand and she breathes in the feeling of going somewhere. In her opinion 4am when no one else is awake is the best time to find new roads, and catharsis. A release of pain, breath, anything you can hold close to your chest from a fear of losing it. She looks over at him with one hand on the wheel and the other tapping rhythms on his knees. He told her once that everything in space they see is in the past, but for now she lives in the present. Everything is good.

His favourite constellation by far is Cassiopeia. She was the queen of Aethiopia, banished to the stars for boasting of her daughter’s beauty, hanging upside-down on a throne made of light. Together they search for her in the sky, discover how to make pictures out of nothing. She tells him that she’s glad they’re allowed to look at her beauty now. No longer do the stars remind her of a man and where his soul may be.

“thank you” they seem to say to each other.


End file.
